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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251701">The Art of Science</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenGonGinGun/pseuds/GenGonGinGun'>GenGonGinGun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dr. STONE (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(sorta) - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spoilers, spoilers for the end of season 1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:32:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenGonGinGun/pseuds/GenGonGinGun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Science is an art,” Gen counters, and the sound of something playful pushes through the edges of his openly honest sentiment. “At least, it is how you perform it.”</em>
</p>
<p>Or, Gen learns to count the minutes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asagiri Gen/Ishigami Senkuu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Art of Science</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Gen was getting better at assessing the passage of time by 21<sup>st</sup> century metrics. It hadn’t been important to him when he first awoke from the stone to consider what the hours in the day <em>felt</em> like; he had been content with knowing that as the sun dipped below the horizon in the west a working day had ended, and as it rose in the east he could begin again. Now, however, without the aid of clocks or Senku’s ability to keep time with uncanny accuracy, he wanted to count the minutes for himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            As such, he would hazard a guess that it had been fifteen minutes since Senku had stopped tinkering with the slap-dash record player he had crafted in order to receive his father’s message. “Functional,” he’d explained, “but low quality, even for a record player, and this glass is going to wear quickly if we keep using it so we might as well get the best sound quality out of it whilst we still can.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Twenty-five minutes had passed, then, since Senku began explaining how the microphone he’d put together in this time period differed from the ones of the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Gen had been following his description of condenser microphones and their diaphragms and fluctuating charges, but his mind had drifted into a world of fantasy for a few short moments when Senku said ‘phantom power’ and that had been enough for him to lose the thread of the explanation completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            It had also been twenty-five minutes since Gen laid his head on his palm, his elbow on the table, and sat across from Senku, just… looking. Of the many words that could be used to describe his expression; smitten, wistful, content, Gen would have preferred ‘attentive’.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            After depositing the record player carefully on a shelf to his left, Senku picked up some materials and chemicals that Gen would be hard-pressed to name and set about work on a different project for which he needed the last of Gen’s lovingly crafted manganese batteries. Gen’s final estimation was that it had been two minutes since Senku had explained how some microphones were hung upside-down in order to prevent heat from warping the diaphragm, only to trail off and lose himself in the concentration his work demanded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Gen had an observation he wanted to air, something light and content on the tip of his tongue, but he was more than happy to wait until the moment of Senku’s focus had passed. Until the tightness of the furrow between Senku’s brows loosened the barest amount. Until a soft, satisfied exhale escaped from his nose; one so quiet that you could only hope to hear it if your ear was pressed in right next to Senku’s face, Gen would know. Until his hands retracted by centimetres in what could be deigned his quietest celebration. Until the corner of his mouth lifted as a precursor to that smirk that Gen admired so much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            <em>Ah, there it is.</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“You really are an artist, Senku,” Gen observed. It was an unexpected tangent that had Senku lifting his face to his partner. Where some might furrow their brow further to showcase their confusion, Senku would tend to smooth his fully. If Gen was to make one more guess, he’d suspect that it’s because confusion to Senku is just a precursor to curiosity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “Where do you get that idea?” Senku questioned, “I can’t say I’ve ever been interested in the arts much. Yuzuriha was the craft aficionado of the three of us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “Science is an art,” Gen counters, and the sound of something playful pushes through the edges of his openly honest sentiment. “At least, it is how you perform it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “<em>Perform</em> it? Science is a set of rules, I’m just following them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Gen shifts for a second and pauses to gather his thoughts. It’s not that he thinks Senku won’t understand what he’s trying to say if he doesn’t manage to phrase it as clearly as he could, but the peace and intimacy of the moment is a cause for care in his mind. Besides, he has a reputation to uphold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “I met a lot of people, way back when. Spent a lot of time in dressing rooms filled with painters, musicians, <em>‘personalities’,</em>” he lifts his fingers to form air-quotes around the syllables, which Senku graces with a snort. “They all have one thing in common.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “Oh yeah, and what is that?” Senku smiles. His hands may still be suspended in the air around his batteries, but his attention right in this second lies solely on Gen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “They all have this look in their eyes like they’re trying to find something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            For a moment, Senku looks like he was expecting almost any other answer and though his muted, comfortable surprise doesn’t last long he still doesn’t seem to know what to say. A few breaths leave him, quietly, with barely any movement, before he settles on “what do you think I’m trying to find?”.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Gen’s expression in response shifts back into something that could be described as wistful. “Oh no, you misunderstand me,” he exhales, “you look like you’ve found it. It’s one of the things I like about you so much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Gen can often tell from the way that Senku’s eyes gleam when he builds a new idea in his mind that Senku isn’t searching for anything anymore; that he has every conviction that science will provide the answers to every question he could ever hope to think of. It’s a look that Gen treasures, quietly, and it’s the same look that Senku is wearing now. This time, however, science isn’t touching the subject and Senku is looking at something else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “Flirt,” Senku teases. There’s a sort of warmth in the pit of Gen’s stomach; it reminds him distantly of the sunrises he’d clung to before he learnt to count the seconds. In all the times that Senku’s brought about this feeling in him, he’s never been certain what to do with it, so instead, he raises the back of his hand to his forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            “<em>Me?</em>” His voice rings with incredulity, though not as boisterous as it would have been outside the sanctuary of this moment. “<em>Flirt?</em> I’ll have you know I’m a taken man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>            Senku just smiles; shakes his head a little, fondly, then lowers his eyes back to the manganese batteries. Gen’s head comes to rest back in his palm, and he thinks <em>‘I could spend a few more half-an-hours like this’.</em></p>
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